


All Those Lightyears (I Run To Catch You)

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All Zayn does is give long looks, February 2016, M/M, Mentions Of Larry - Freeform, mentions of break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two sugars and cream, the way you like it," Zayn says nonchalantly and joins the seating across him. He says it like it doesn't mean anything. Like it doesn't mean 'I still love you' or 'you can stay here' or 'please I haven't forgotten' and things Liam hopes they were. But, after all this time, he knows he shouldn't expect; it's only going to lead to a pillow soaked in tears and empty broken wine bottles.</p><p>Where Zayn and him are broken up but Liam comes back. Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Those Lightyears (I Run To Catch You)

When his car pulls up to the painfully similar house, Liam exhales out a breath he had been holding for several months. Like a gulp of air when he rose to the surface from the dark murky water underneath. The murky water wasn't necessarily One Direction but the surface was definitely Zayn Malik, beautiful extraordinaire.

Or at least, with time he became so.

He turns to his bodyguard who had been driving the car, sneaking glances from the rear view mirror just to revel at the amount of joy glittering in the pop-star's eyes. They had been closer than ever since almost an year, marking the departure of something the lads couldn't console him about. "I suppose we'll be staying in the next few days, you'll not have to be around. I'll just call you when I'm ready to leave."

It's a few hours after noon, the shadow falls on their faces. Paddy continues to watch him, but his eyes flicker ruefully. "You'll never want to leave, Liam."

The said man laughs wryly at that, choking it out of his throat. "That's true, but I'll still call you." When he receives a nod in reply, he tightens the strap of his shoulder bag and clambers out of the back-seat and advances towards the house without another word.

Upon reaching the top of the cemented steps -that he remembers chipped off once or twice because Zayn wanted to frivolously slide down them with his metal skateboard- he blows out the steam and straightens himself, pasting on a possibly fake smile. He doesn't have to impress anyone on the other side of the door. He's only coming home, and any difference in him would only be an indifference where his heart is.

When The Departure happened, Liam had angrily thrown the keys against the marble floor of their hotel room and screamed out that he no longer needed it. He thought he lost his home, but it was still there in the house. He regrets it now, he should have kept the keys.

He presses a button to his left, the one that could be mistake as the switch for the little mistletoe lights above his head that he remembers kissing under for the sake of it, because he had to have an excuse and without it felt like taking more than he deserved. There's a loud buzz. "Who's speaking?" A speaker trills from above him.

"Liam Payne."

"Please wait for a moment," the standard intercom voice says, followed by a shrill beep that he's accustomed to. He would have gone for the straight surprise if he had the key, alas. But the current one feels like a right surprise too. He stand there, breathing nervousness into his lungs by the second. What if he isn't wanted? What if things aren't the same?

The door's lock clicks open, thrice before it swings open, revealing a flushed and panting Zayn. He must have ran down all the stairs from his writing lair. He looks a bit different from the last time they saw each other three months ago. He's more than beautiful in his pair of shaggy pyjamas and rumpled t-shirt that hugged his torso. His grey hair messily splayed over his forehead and his nose-piercing glittering under the sunlight. His eyes were brimmed with wonder and his jaw open like it lost it's hinge. More fuller and more happier. Leaving made him happy. Zayn always said they were two sides of a mirror -actually, Mirrors was their song when he exclaimed that Liam was a twisted photocopy of Justin Timberlake and that the song applied to them- so, two sides of a mirror are different though. They're opposite. Like, how leaving made Zayn happy, but Liam sad.

"Liam?" Zayn says breathlessly.

Liam smiles with a tinge of melancholy, arms itching to wrap around his ex-boyfriend. But, he purses his lips and ties his hands behind his back. He can't even bloody kiss him, great. "Alright, Zayn?"

"Yeah," Zayn exhales, eyes still wide. "Yeah. I'm. I'm alright. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

Zayn stares at him for a moment longer before giving him way. "Come on in," he ushers quietly.

Liam slides in, dropping his bag a where he leaves his shoes. The interior of the house hasn't changed at all. The pictures of both of them and all the lads still hang on the whitewashed walls, the dust on top of the CD player intact. The graffiti on the kitchen bar hasn't been washed away, the dining table set like how he had left it. Overall, all his mistake were just as it is, hanging like ghosts of another lifetime, yet they felt like only yesterday he had stormed out. When they had brought the house two and a half years ago, none of them knew they'd end up how they did. Yet the house- it wasn't it's fault and Liam is glad that nothing changed, like a bittersweet reminder that they're the same no matter what.

"So, how long will you be here for?" Zayn ponders out loud, bringing Liam back to the present.

He's only grateful that he doesn't ask why are you here, instead. "As long as I can be," he replies airily. It's a good thing they'd gone and asked for the hiatus, since he has time to come see Zayn, Louis has to focus on the dubbed baby-gate, Niall can disappear off the face of earth and Harry can be glamorous like he always is.

"Right, the hiatus," Zayn mutters to himself, scratching the back of his head.

"Yes," he answers hesitantly. Hiatus or not, he probably shouldn't be where he is. Just because he has free time, doesn't mean goes gallivanting to Los Angeles for the sake of it, and also to see certain somebodies. "Is that okay?"

He doesn't even know where they stand at the moment. They've broken up in the heat of the moment around an year ago, but always tend to gravitate towards each other if left idly. They've managed to meet up frequently after the tour finished. They didn't need to profess their love, or kiss or make up. Zayn lights up when he's there, and that seems enough. They don't kiss or bed each other. If Zayn's feeling confident, he latches onto his arm. That's that.

"Okay? It's more than okay," Zayn harrumphs unsophisticatedly. "This place is yours too, eh?"

"It is," Liam says immediately, squeezing his words into possession. The thing is; it's not called home anymore. It's a place, as he stated. But, he wants it to be home.

"Alright, then. Cuppa?"

Liam nods and shrugs off his windbreaker and stuffs it into his bag and drops it. Cracking his tired knuckles, he suppresses a large yawn as he plops into the loveseat. Nobody's going to sit next to him, but he couldn't care less. His thoughts are out of place, swimming like forgotten letters in space. Before he knows it, Zayn's holding a mug of scalding hot tea in front of his face. He takes it with burnt fingertips and mutters out a thanks.

"Two sugars and cream, the way you like it," Zayn says nonchalantly and joins the seating across him. He says it like it doesn't mean anything. Like it doesn't mean I still love you or you can stay here or please I haven't forgotten and things Liam hopes they were. But, after all this time, he knows he shouldn't expect; it's only going to lead to a pillow soaked in tears and empty broken wine bottles. "What have you been doing since the hiatus started?"

"Oh, nothing," Liam bites out reflexively, though that's exactly what he's been doing. "I woke up early for the first week, you know? We've been on automatic mode for so long, I hadn't noticed. I've been bored out of my mind, really. So, I went down to the studio, made a few remixes, wrote and produced some music. It's been well."

Zayn looks like he's genuinely interested to know. "That's all you've done? Few months and that's all?"

"Well, yeah. I lazed around quite a bit. Went home to visit and then spent a few days in Japan with Niall, that's about it," he answers insouciantly.

"How's mum?"

"Yours?"

Zayn lets out a small laugh, enough to skim by the ears and sail away. "No, I've been talking to mine. I meant yours."

"She's well," he continues to speak indifferently, like the whole conversation isn't pushing down on his shoulders like the weight of the skies. "Asked about you." He hears Zayn hum in response, watching him drum his fingers on his cup. He can't even bring himself to say Zayn's name out loud. "What were you doing before I came?"

"Just writing something, I was just about to got for a smoke. Want one?"

Liam shakes his profusely. "I'm trying to quit." He just hopes he doesn't sound too much like I'm trying to get you out of my system.

"Oh," there's disappointment in his voice. "I hope you'll get to the end."

Liam nods tightly, pinching his lips together. Small talk has never worked out between them, even with the distance and time. "I'm just going to freshen up and probably kip in for a while, 'm a bit tired. Excuse me." He doesn't wait for a reply, just pushes himself up and saunters upstairs to a spare bedroom.

\--

"How are things with him?" Louis gives him The Eye over a sip of his vanilla milkshake.

They're at a private café that's enclosed from the paparazzi's eye. Liam couldn't bear to sit wordlessly in the same house as Zayn without feeling like he would spontaneously combust till every molecule of him was burnt to ash. He decided to call Louis -who was in LA too due to speculation of the dubbed babygate- and met up fifteen minutes prior to mope about their individual lives.

"Please. We aren't talking about this," Liam shoots, rubbing feverishly at his temples. All the thinking was giving him a headache, maybe an aneurism could take place in a few hours. He was done with contemplating the existence of something unnamed with Zayn. They weren't like Louis and Harry, they couldn't stand by each other and neither were the star couple for everything who use 'we' instead 'me' all the time.

Zayn and him; they were undoubtedly star crossed lovers. They hold onto breaking strings and fragile promises. They're the kind that don't know how, but they know the love when they look each other in the eye. They can go days with just memories in their heads. Small things like sharing clothes and remembering each other's smiles were what kept them strong. But now, they stand on the edge, having risen from the fall, but not sure whether to back out or fall again. They love each other, but they're not doing commitment. Because commitment meant fighting for each other. Now, they were too weak for that.

"What do you mean we aren't talking about this? Of course we're talking about it! Look at you! One visit and you look like you've lost weight," Louis proclaims dramatically. "Honestly, if you guys just- like in rom-coms, have sexual tension and do the deed and get it over with it, it'd be much more easier."

"Shut up," he mutters indignantly. "Besides, you aren't on talking terms with him, why would you want to talk about it?"

"I haven't forgiven him," Louis admits lackadaisically. "I haven't forgotten anything. I still have this huge womanly grudge on him that I can't forget anytime soon. He didn't just break your heart, Payno. He broke mine as well." Liam raises an eyebrow expectantly. "Not that way, but he was my best mate, before your boyfriend, so understand."

Liam understands this. Of course, he does. Both of them found a resurrected friendship in bonding over their betrayed betrothals. So, he points out the same thing.

"Look, you have to talk it out with someone," Louis says lukewarmly. "You told me that in the X Factor House, remember? And I'm sticking by and maybe you should listen to your own advice for once. You can talk it out with Harry, if you want. But, I thought I was your unofficial shrink."

"You're right," he confirms with a mirrored sigh. "I'm not sure if telling you is a good thing or not. You're all facing things of your own, Lou."

Louis spreads out his arms like he's digesting it all. "We'll take turns, then. I, Louis Tomlinson, am about to declare my current status of life. My husband is in another continent when all I wanted was to spend my time with him in this break, I'm fighting for custody over a fake baby, which is just actually a human doll with my fake ex-girlfriend, who's the mother of the so called baby. I haven't touched her once as I'm very much gay, but she managed to pop out an ankle-biter I wasn't responsible for. I can't fall asleep because there's no one beside me." Liam tries to shush him, from letting out secrets like a valedictory to the world. "See, Liam, it isn't that hard. If I'm suffering with my man away from me, you're suffering with your man near you. That's the only difference."

Liam looks down at his coffee as if he's going to vomit it back into the same mug. "I'm so happy to see him, is the thing. I know I still love him, and we haven't had closure, because I still want him. But, at the same time, I don't. I'm so angry at him, but when I see him, I turn soft."

Louis gives him a quizzical glare when he looks up. "Happens to the best of us, mate, relax. I think you should just test the waters for the next two days. You know, like try to make conversation about the sensitive matters and if he seems hesitant, then let it blow over."

Liam nods sturdily.

\--

Right after, he runs by the store for groceries with a minimal emergency disguise of a scarf that covered half of his face; thinking he should learn how to tie a hijab from Zayn's sisters. By the time he reaches back to the house, it's seven in the evening, Zayn's sat on the couch, biting him lip anxiously. He jumps up when Liam turns the key and enters. "Liam!"

The said person is startled in his bones, hair in the back of his neck standing erect. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," Zayn mumbles, looking away. His lashes fall flat and Liam wants to get close enough to count them again. "I didn't know whether you'd come back for tonight or not, I was waiting for your phone call."

"Here I am," he gestures to himself and toes off his shoes and strides into the kitchen. The refrigerator lights up on opening and unloads the bag of fruits and food into it. He brought a lot of fruit yogurt, because Zayn basically inhaled them, and it felt nice doing something for someone who was not himself. He sticks his head out and calls to the living room. "Are we having dinner?"

Zayn walks in and grabs an apple from the slowly emptying bag. "You bought groceries," then he gasps loudly, dropping the apple back. "You bought yogurt! Thanks, babe."

Liam freezes, before quickly collecting himself and continuing with piling the chicken and bell peppers along the top shelf. Zayn must've noticed too, because he grips his yogurt tighter. Nicknames always softened him, and if they were brought up, he knows how the end will be. He'll pine and then go back to London with a luggage full of a clothes with cologne and broken heart pieces scattered amongst it.

"I'm not hungry," Zayn says noncommittally to fill in the silence. "But, if you can we'll order pizza or summat."

"No, no," Liam quickly inserts. "I've had a late snack with Louis, I'm actually quite full." He closes the door to the refrigerator, lets the bag be on the floor and pads over to the kitchen bar to sit down. The graffiti under his fingertips is smooth and cold like the memories swirling in his mind. When Zayn did, Liam hadn't spoken to him for two days because it's where you eat, Zayn.

"You went out to meet Louis? Our Louis?"

"Yeah, well," he affirms dispassionately. "Harry's in Chesire and Niall's in Japan."

"He's here?"

"They're still doing the baby P.R stunt, the one with Freddie, you know? He has to stay here to make it seem like he's taking care of Briana and him," he supplies.

Zayn seems to contemplate it. "How is he?"

Liam narrows his eyes dubiously. "You should ask him, it'll be no use if I tell you myself."

"I can't do that, though. Can I?"

"Is that my fault, Zayn?" Liam yields resignedly. It's their fight and he's no one to bother. Louis himself, is neutral on the situation. He thought both of them stopped arguing and started accepting. He gets up, rubs a hand over his face and proceeds to go upstairs. He calls out as he moves forward,"Is it really?"

"It's not," Zayn says firmly, following him. He steps into his footprints like he used to before. If Liam just turned a bit, they'd be in a rather compromising position. "You can take the master bedroom."

Liam stops in his strides, flipping around expectantly not, almost knocking his knees into the latters and close enough to lay a kiss on him. He clears his throat and dips backward. "Why? I thought you were sleeping there?"

Zayn's eyes burn into his, saying a thousand words his tongue can't say. "I can't sleep there anymore," he says softly. "I sleep in the bedroom on this floor."

And, god. Liam wants to reach forward and tug his head until their lips meet. He'd never let go after that, till they kissed for all the times they didn't. For the seventeen years he couldn't and the last few months he didn't. He'd say all the things he wanted to say that his tongue failed. He wants to taste his tears and for Zayn to taste his. It's in his blood, it's in his veins. The love. It flows from his heart to the rest of him. Zayn is a painting, he's an art. He's messed up, but colourful at the same time. There was no understanding him, only appreciating him. There were roses in his lips and sunlight in his eyes and it was enough to keep Liam alive, just with a small flickering flame in his chest.

Instead, he looks at his toes and divulges. "If you aren't sleeping there, neither will I. I'll just take the guest bedroom next to it."

\--

When Liam first saw Zayn, his lips pursed.

It was a feeling he got in the marrow of his bones. That abnormally quiet boy with his lip biting and fuzzy shaved head. He didn't fit here, Liam thought. He was only a obstacle, he thought, he's only going to bring me down in the end.

The thing is, Liam was done trying to be worthless. He was done with being that boy who cries in the bathroom stalls when his peers beat him up, or the boy who was hung when no one showed up at his birthday party, two times too many. He was done being the whole weak, melancholy boy everyone takes him for.

Five and a half years ago, he had set foot on the X-Factor stage with his head high with a vibrant smile that was born out of his newfound confidence, only to go back with a inch shorter in height and a determined frown on his lips. He remembered his father's gruff voice that night at the dinner table. "Son, you'll be alright, I know you will."

He listened to his father, then, and Jade. Jade had been there with him. She was the only one who understood his persistence behind wanting to be perfect. When he told her that he was doing to for himself and not anybody else, she just laughed and squeezed his shoulder. It was good enough for him.

Later, she joined his side and both of them decided to vocally coach each other for the next two years till they'd apply for the competition. They did that over low quality Skype and drunken conversations. In two years Liam's meek voice grew strong like the length of Jade's hair, just as beautifully.

That time, when he tried, Liam got in.

Soon, he was grouped with four other boys that he hardly knew about but is sharing the same air with. The blonde one hugged him customarily and his nerves went down a little. The other pair -when he first saw them, couldn't tell the difference between- seem already besotted with each other, so he just offered them a polite smile. He couldn't tell which one is Louis Tomlinson since it was the only name he knew, but he reckoned he can do the research later.

The other black haired one though -Liam wasn't sure why- seemed a bit wonky on the look. He wouldn't make eye contact and continued to drum his fingers on his thighs. Liam cleared his throat, already exasperated. "Erm, what's your name?"

"Zen," the boy replied like a reflex, soft and almost inaudible.

"As in the word zen? Like, art?"

"No," the boy glanced up finally, traces of wistfulness lining his expression. He had honey coloured eyes, like the sediments at the bottom of the jar. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and honestly, he looked like a monkey with his stuck out ears. "Like Z-A-Y-N. Zay-n."

"Zayn," he tested on his tongue. He waited for Zayn to ask for him name, he doesn't. So, he said it himself. "I'm Liam."

Zayn nodded. Liam thought he was just being rude. So, he walked away.

 

It took him some time to get used to the lads. He's had all the privacy in the world with being the only male adolescent back at home, and he never considered it a piece of privilege. Now it's all he hoped for. Right after they became an official band, he craved to keep a few things to himself. But, alas, everyone forgets personal space and whatnot. He woke up with Niall's toe in his nose one day, but he didn't say anything.

Their first album was out and it was a blasting hit. It still felt like a dream to him, and one stir was all it would take for him to wake up. It's one of those ones where you brace yourself before you fall and jerk awake. Only, no matter how much he pinched himself he couldn't make it out of the daze.

Things were better though. After the end of the video diaries, they've gotten closer. He still had a weird frequency with Louis though. They fought and throw insults at each other that are sharp as knifes and sometimes the older of them would curl up beside him and offer his bowl of popcorn quite generously. He didn't quite get it, but he assumes they were on the road of becoming alright. In some way.

Niall was the middle man. He didn't attach himself to one person particularly. He gave everyone the fair treatment and Liam loved that about him, though he never had expressed it. He was a little blonde ball of sunshine that jumped around spreading happiness to the world. If anybody looked up 'happiness' in a thesaurus, Niall's name would definitely be there. Liam didn't understand from where it all came, or if he doesn't ever feel unhappy. Or even what he did to stop feeling unhappy.

Harry was there. He was there when Liam wanted to talk or he wanted to scream or he just wanted somebody to pat his back and say they'll be right there or that it's alright. Harry was his well-wisher in this dream, and he couldn't ask for more. Harry was the one who generally broke up the rare fights between Louis and him. It was not because he's gentle -he was- but it's also because Louis is Harry's boyfriend.

Now, when they first came into his room with intertwined hands and sheepish smiles, he hugged them right away and told them that nothing had changed except for the fact that he knew them more than the day before. But, when he lay in bed that day, his mind had a thought of its own that maybe it was wrong. Not because they were lads. But because if something happened, everything would go down in seconds. However, the next morning, he told himself to shut up and be an optimist when he'd been watching the pair mooning over each other for a few months.

But, their management team had a different perspective. When Liam was told he could sell out arenas and sing to the whole world, he thought the only thing about it would be being too famous. But, he didn't know that the pillars of fame were held up with the shoulders of lies. But, of course, the naked eye could never see it. When they found out about Louis and Harry's relationship, they turned an scornful eye towards them and they were being forced to keep their hands to themselves no matter.

Liam was sincerely hoping it couldn't get worse until he was told to go on a reluctant date with Danielle Peazer. She wasn't even his type; almost taller than him, older than him by five years, couldn't hold a smile longer than for three seconds. He pasted on a smile identical to hers, clutched her hand in his sweaty one and faced the blinding cameras.

At first it felt like fun. Flaunting a girlfriend he knew he'd never genuinely have, but hiding the fact that he doesn't like her got harder. She was pretty and she was nice to him like a friend, but nothing more. Niall told him to use the chance when he had it, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't spend a night with her with the morning tangled in covers. He couldn't do it. And he was not allowed to pull a lassie when he turned legal and turned to the bar.

Better yet, Zayn came into the picture. He was there the whole time, of course. But, it was like Liam had never noticed him properly, and now that he did, the world was suddenly high defined. He didn't tell anyone that he got flustered when the blacked haired boy touched his face, or gave him a smile with a scrunch of his nose, or sat in his lap. They'd gotten closer, but Liam felt like Zayn still put a wall made of virtual bricks between them.

It's like they were jumping in and out of it. One time, Zayn would cuddle up next to him and pinch his cheek and another, he'd ignore every way Liam tried to get his attention. But, right after Zayn was assigned a girlfriend, he stopped once and for all. Liam didn't understand though. Rebecca "please call me Becky" was in the X Factor house with them, and she was a good person as far as he knew. And playing pretend with her was probably easy with her, he wasn't in Zayn's shoes.

Louis was also an idiot. He often dropped hints on how he saw how much Liam wanted Zayn. It was all plain fun, he thought. Because why would a boy-band have two gay members, much less three or four. From the looks of it, Zayn looked straight as anything. But then, there wasn't a solid of definition of straight to be ruggedly cute, smoulder or sport sexy quiffs.

So, he let himself think that maybe. Maybe he did a tiny crush -something like celebrity man crush- because Zayn was a man and he was a celebrity. Also, you never can have them but you can dream. And, he continued to dream. (Nothing filthy there, honestly. Just him and Zayn holding hands and skipping past iridescent rainbows).

The thing was that; with time, Zayn became more and more beautiful. Liam swore his jawline is edgy than the previous week. His lashes longer than a camel's, his lips pouted more than any pair he'd seen on a girl. His eyes like sunlight passed though evaporated Bournvita. It was like puberty took a partial liking towards him, and if any person who came across Adonis wasn't jealous or envious, they were stupid. There was a sharpness to Zayn that got him hot, but he was soft too; like when he was talking to sister over the phone and they laughed about how Doniya had burnt the biryani pot for the eleventh time.

That's what Liam did. He simply fantasised. But, fantasies are pulled into reality sometimes too. He blamed himself and called himself worthless at night when he thought of kissing his band-mate. Being gay wasn't wrong, but in his books for self-study, it was wrong. He punished himself for thinking so, stripping himself of dignity. But.

Never stopped fantasizing. Hoping. Stopping wasn't in his hands.

\--

When Liam's eyes fly open, he jerks awake from a dream where he feels like falling. Those are the worst, honestly. It's a dog trying to catch it's own tail. He doesn't recognise where he is at first, only a tiny shockwave running though his head like a CT scanner. It's then that he realises that he's the guestroom. He's gotten so accustomed to sleeping in their room, that the taste of another bed is almost foreign.

He freshens up before he can poison the whole house with his breath. When he's downstairs, the place looks almost untouched, and for a moment panic fills his lungs that maybe- maybe Zayn left again. But, when he looks through the shoe rack, Zayn's pairs are all unimpaired from their respective places. He sighs out of relief, but mostly to swallow his tears.

He must be up in the lair, he thinks while cracking an egg on the edge of the heated pan, almost burning himself. When he splats against the surface with a hissing sizzle, he thinks his brain is fried the exact way. He couldn't do much. Food for thought was a rare thing and the gears in his head only needed oil, which in this case meant clearly; some peace.

Liam balances a plate of omelette and vegetable fry-up each on both palms and walks to the third floor of the house. He has to set the plates aside and pull the suspension handle on the ceiling down for the ladder to cascade down. When -with utmost care- he reaches the attic, Zayn is seated on a desk chair across his laptop with a pencil tucked behind his ear and his lips rolled into the inside of his mouth.

He clears his throat subtly. "I'm assuming you haven't had anything?"

Zayn looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He shakes himself off and grins lopsided. "No, woke up just half an hour ago and I was too lazy. Are one of those for me?" Liam wordlessly sliding one onto the desk and pats his pockets for a fork he had pushed in and sets it on the plate. Zayn's eyes run over it and his rubs his hands together, smacking his lips. "Thanks, Li."

"No problem," he says passively. "What were you doing?"

Zayn gestures to the glowing screen of his laptop, simultaneously shrugging. "Going through Twitter. Not much there, so." He pauses as if he's contemplating on crossing a broken bridge. Technically, everyone is. "I've seen a few stuff on here."

"Like?"

"I mean, it could be a misunderstanding or it's pure PR," Zayn quips accountably. He did that; moved his hands in the air animatedly, widened his eyes and talked a bit too much at a bit too fast. Which only meant he was reluctant on asking but only wanted the answer. It reminds him of their first kiss- how Zayn had hypothetically asked his reaction if they kissed. "Have you been out with Cheryl Cole?"

Liam feels a bit gobsmacked. "Zayn."

"No, no. Just simply asking, you know? Because half of the things you're out for are for publicity and I really don't blame you. But, then, Cheryl is quite fit, to be honest, so it could be for real maybe. But, you like blonde women, don't you? They're your type. So, why would you choose her out of all of the bints out there. And, God, I don't mean this in a bad way, but she was our judge in the X Factor, so doesn't that make it a bit weird for you? Also, she's ten years older than you, and you were the one who was disgusted when Harry had to do the gig with Caroline, so-"

"Zayn," he sharply cuts him off. "Calm down. You don't need to think so much over this. It's a PR stunt. She is hot, but I wouldn't want to have her." He glances at the latter when he looks visibly relieved, Liam raises his eyebrows questioningly. "But, why are you so concerned? It doesn't matter anymore, right?"

Zayn gives him eyes that ooze like maple syrup. "Liam, don't," he protests softly.

"Honestly, it's no biggie. I've seen your girlfriend. Gigi's alright." She's not alright. She's blonde, and stupid, and not-ugly and he's so tired of hating on her. It's literally takes all his energy; screaming and ranting to Niall who just blankly nods his head. She's too pretty and plastic, and he doesn't like her next to his ex-boyfriend. But, he's not going to say of it.

"I'm not dating her," he answers stoically, playing with his fingers. "It's a publicity thing too. She's taller than me, how am I supposed to go after that?"

"Then, how much height would you like?" Liam ventures to say. When Zayn meets his eyes, there's a thickness in the atmosphere that speeds up his pulse rate. He can feel it throbbing against his neck as he swallows the taste of bile. The plate in his hand almost falls from the sweatiness.

"About my height," Zayn licks his lips slackly. "Correct to lean in and kiss them."

Right then, Liam's phone starts trilling in his pocket, cutting through their tension and bringing them back from the reverie. When he pulls it out, Harry's name is flashing on the front. The moment was broken anyways, so he excuses himself and kicks down the attic door and scurries down. When he's at a safe distance, he huffs and lifts it.

"Hi Liam!" There's so much enthusiasm leaking from Harry's voice that it makes him cringe.

"Harry,"" he drawls monotonously.

"Well, aren't you happy to hear from me? I knew you would be!"

Liam huffs indignantly. "What do you want?"

"Is that the way you greet your friend whom you haven't seen from months?" Harry warbles. "So...Louis told me. How is it going with Zayn?"

"Is there hardly anything you two keep to yourselves?!"

"Nope!" Harry pops excitedly. "Now, tell me how it's been going?"

"It was going towards the right direction till you called, you kinda ruined the moment," he complains, miffed.

"Oh, was it a bad time, then?"

Liam rolls his eyes so hard, he might see the back of his head. "Of course, it wasn't. You're just particularly good with timings, aren't you?"

\--

After an extended call with Harry which entailed all the details of the previous day and the morning, along with what he had to eat (which was a disguise of if he was eating properly or not) and miscellaneous other things, he washes his empty plate and goes back to the lair (the attic) to talk to Zayn. He feels like he might lose him forever after the visit with the literal and metaphorical distance between them, (Liam has to stand a meter away to refrain from snogging him) and the tension never seemed to failed to appear.

Upon arriving, Zayn has his head lolled lazily against the back of his seat, eye closed with his mouth minutely open to puff out smoke rings. Held up is his hand, carcinogen tucked between his index and middle finger. It makes his own fingers twitch against his sides, in need of a cigarette. He's quitting, but he still needs it. He supposes it's a metaphor for loving Zayn. He'll never get over him and when he probably is, he'll still want him. Zayn was a habit he didn't want to lose.

"You're back," Zayn slurs with one eye narrowly open.

Liam doesn't reply, he glances at the open desktop with a glowing picture of Zayn's upside down face with smoke bellowing out and filling out of the picture that contrasted purple. "I've heard Pillowtalk. It's nice."

"Just nice," Zayn raises an eyebrow slackly, as if asking with his eyes.

"It's bloody brilliant," he adds quietly. "Who did you base it off of?"

"Liam."

"That's my name," he says as nonchalantly as possible.

"You know who it's about," Zayn sighs, sitting up.

"Who is it about? By the look of it, it's about a certain Victoria's Secret angel."

"Liam. I wrote it last July. We hadn't even met by then," he protests.

"Really?"

Zayn rolls his eyes minutely, stubbing the rest of his smoke against the crystal ashtray Liam remembered getting him two Christmases ago. "Quit acting like a jealous ex-girlfriend."

"Will you look at that," Liam exclaims hysterically. "The irony of it."

Zayn gives him a long look that's a myriad of emotions. "I wrote it about you, I thought I made that quite clear by saying that we fought and made up in the song. I thought it would become our song. Or the next of them."

Liam looks away, fighting the urge to clench his hands into fists. "I thought you said you didn't want the songs we wrote for each other wouldn't become our songs." He can't tell him that the cover Zayn made and sent him of Mirrors is still on his phone and that he listens to it sometimes when he can't sleep or that he still has a playlist of seventy six songs that Zayn claimed were incidentally made for them.

"I told you why, though. That-"

"I know," Liam cuts in passively. "That anyone who hears the song won't know I wrote something for you or that you wrote it for me. They'll assume we wrote it to a girl we were speculatively dating." He pauses, letting his fists bunch together this time. "I thought you didn't want me to write you songs. Why would you do that?"

Zayn glimpses up at him challengingly. "Did that stop you?" He continues when he doesn't get an answer. "I know you produced Love You Goodbye, I know you wrote Long Way Down for us. I know I'll live in these songs if anyone sees it or not. And, now I want to." He pauses. "I know you still listen to You and I, because I still do."

Liam wants to say yes, yes that true. He wants to shout it out, really. "I thought you didn't listen to the album," he says instead.

Zayn laughs, snorts haughtily, shoulders falling forward. "Can't you see, Li? I would tell you that I didn't because I didn't want you to know I did. How can you be so stupid? You guys are my best friends- of course, I would. I know the difference between your words, because I see you in them. I can tell the difference when you helped out with the song or when you've put your heart into writing." He pauses, looking up from his lashes. "You do it when you write about me, I know it."

"Why the sudden interest, then?"

Zayn looks a million years older when he says it. "I feel like that's all I have to keep me going now."

\--

"Liam, where the hell have you been?!"

At the sound of that voice, Liam is almost shocked. He hasn't seen their face in almost an year. Their schedules have been tight and it hadn't crossed his mind with being busy, and not one had he thought he should call to discuss how his life had become upside down. After all, that's what friends do.

"Jade!" he exclaims back with the same amount of ardour in his voice, almost immediately with recognition lighting up his brain. On hesitantly answering the Skype call when he was lazily laying on the sofa with his laptop haphazard on his lap, he's delighted. Her face popped onto the screen, cheeks spread out to accommodate a rosy grin lined with fading maroon lipstick. Her forehead was beaded with sweat which meant she was doing her post-recording-session-stress-control exercise.

"Look at you, Payne. Vacation and all," she winks, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I admit, I'm quite laid back now. It's doing me good." He smiles, feeling his eyes crinkle. "Now, tell me, why did you call?"

"Am I not allowed to call you, then?" She widens her eyes comically. "Wait a minute, let me just press the end button and I'll be outta your hair."

"No need to be so dramatic, Jid," he teases playfully. "I'm just surprised."

"Well, I bought your album and Wolves came on my playlist during my workout session in the morning and I thought calling you would do the world some good. Because that song is my absolute favourite." She rolls her eyes and uses her hands to speak.

"Thanks! Happy you gave it a try, because Get Weird is your best album so far. I liked Grown the best, it made me feel like jelly for some weird reason," he explains earnestly.

Her grin melts down on one side of her face, leaving it crooked. "I was thinking you'd like Secret Love Song, it's more...you get me."

He narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"What's wrong?" She proclaims, throwing her arms into the air. "It's experience based and people might think it's specifically for Larry but not everyone knows all the things behind your doors."

He understands what she was not so subtly implying. "Jade."

"Liam," she challenges back.

"Liam," another voice calls from the top of the stairs. He flicks his head to reveal Zayn descending, punctuating every step with a clack of his boots, toying with a bunch of keys in the hand that wasn't stuffed into a jacket pocket.

"Zayn," he replies, taken aback.

"Zayn?" Jade parrots, glancing at Liam with murderous eyes.

"Niall?" Zayn tries, as he comes to a halt across Liam.

"Jade!" The said person shouts to remind him.

"Jade," Liam hisses warningly.

Zayn comes to stand next to Liam, leaning against the armrest. "Jade," he nods in acknowledgement.

"Zayn," she answers uncomfortably.

Liam had always noticed a sort of tension between the two -nothing like his and Zayn's, though. Back when Little Mix wasn't a band, Liam had made it a point to drill his then-best-friend, Jade- about the new Adonis in their band. She was already tired of dividing his attention with four others, but found it utterly exasperating to share it a little more with Zayn. She later meaninglessly disliked him when she found out he had to do a massive PR stunt with Perrie -her now best friend- that would leave her amazon persona to look vulnerable. Protectiveness, he supposed. When Liam had no way and called her up almost more than an year ago that Zayn was 'stomping' on him and walking away, her opinion didn't improve. Today, it's the same.

A flurry of blonde in the screen's background rushed behind Jade. "Perrie?" Zayn questions out loud. She must have been having a traditional movie date together.

From the corner of the screen, Perrie saunters forward, eyebrows dancing on her forehead. She squints, "Zayn?" she buzzes confoundedly. "Liam?"

"Perrie," Liam repeats.

Jade looks irritated. "Why are we saying each other's name again and again?"

Zayn shakes himself out of a daze. "I've been meaning to call you, Pez. I need some best friend advice, I'll get back to you." He turns to Liam after receiving a nod and a good natured smile. "Liam, I'll be back in half an hour and I'll bring groceries if I have to." He leans in and it hits Liam that maybe he might kiss him on his cheek. But, Zayn jerks back quickly, leaving him disappointedly.

When Zayn strides out the door and it clicks shut, Perrie smirks at him. "Liam."

Jade frowns, "Liam."

He looks between both of them. "What?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what best friend advice means?" Perrie trills. He shakes his head. She rolls her eyes. "You both are living in the same house and you're both being awkward, tell me you understand."

"No?"

She rolls her eyes once again. "You'll figure it out. You two talk, then. See ya, Liam!" With that, she's gone with a flourish.

Jade glares at him poisonously. "You're with him right now?" Before he can get any words in, she's speaking. "Remember when you called me and talked about how you wanted out? Is this how you're doing that?"

"Jade-"

"Because that certainly doesn't look it. He's going to keep being a douche, and you're going to keep running back to him. You're going to hurt yourself again. Remember that alcohol overdose a few months ago? You can't let things like that happen again, you can't let it happen to your fans," she ventures on.

"I've gotten past that stage, Jade. I know how to handle myself. I messed up, I understand, but I'm back on the saddle. And I'm here so I could settle things for myself. Not for him, not for my issues. I want to get to the bottom of it. If it's over by the end of the week, I'll gladly accept it. If it isn't, I'll have to work my way out of it.," he says loud and fiercely. "I can do well, only if everyone stops treating me like a child. I'm tired of it. I'm not fragile. I'm fixing things and I'll get there."

\--

At the moment, Liam feels like he's on the brink of falling into an existential crisis.

That feeling of worthlessness and dread washes over him again and again like tides of a salty sea. He blinks away the persistent tears that build up- from the hollow of his throat to the back of his eyes. With his body wrapped up in a duvet and the acid skimming against the walls of his stomach, he's not feeling too great. He hopes that hugging his pillow may seem a little bit like hugging his own mother, only it isn't, but he supposes it'll suffice. The room is empty. It isn't his. It isn't theirs.

It's afternoon, the sun beating down on him. He just wants to kick away all the misery that fills the corners of his chest and the creases of his existence. He thinks he cannot live with all the weight on his back, like he's holding up the skies. He wants to sob his throat dry and never utter a word again. It's a small thing, but not in the way he was currently.

All the music that he's made and the awards and people. He forgets it all. He's stripped to his soul in his mind, his conscience demands of his identity and he feels like he hasn't any. Without luck and good band-mates, he would've been nowhere. His talents is forgotten- his voice, his tone, his falsettos- lost in the tangle of his thoughts.

There's a knock on the door which startles him. He knows it's Zayn. Which means he cannot look the way he's supposed to. He quickly sits up and leaves the duvet around himself, pats his cheeks for any wetness -there isn't any- and calls out a wobbly 'come in'.

The door falls ajar and a head springs in. Zayn's tongue is between his teeth, analytically. "Can I talk to you?" Liam nods and Zayn dares to stalk into the room and arrange himself gracefully on the edge of the bed at a safe distance -not too far or near- Liam. "So, I've had a talk with Perrie a few minutes ago."

"And?"

"I've come here to face my fears," Zayn answers nonchalantly.

"Me wrapped up in a blanket is your biggest fear," Liam states in wisecrack, at least it covers his defenceless.

"In fact, yes," Zayn says breezily again. "You minus the blanket as well."

"Funny," Liam snorts, pulling at a loose thread on the duvet.

"It's not, actually," he continues to say in a light voice that stops sounding like his. "You scare the daylights out of me, Liam Payne."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

"Of course, you are," Liam rolls his eyes as a bonus of reply.

Zayn ignores his sarcastic words. "Perrie told me to pick my guts off the floor and talk to you."

"Isn't that what you're doing?" Liam questions. "Talking to me?"

Zayn scowls, "Could you be serious for at least once?"

"Fine."

"I want you in my life," says the latter, closing his eyes as though he was bracing himself.

"I am, aren't I?" Liam shoots back as though reflexively. "I'm still here despite of everything. I'm in your life, your house and your bloody guestroom."

"It's your house too," Zayn protests weakly.

"My name's on the papers, but it doesn't seem like it. I'm here on account of reluctance."

"Then, why don't you leave? Nobody's forcing you to stay," he barks harshly.

"I'll leave tomorrow," Liam huffs indignantly. "This whole thing, I thought it would work out. It isn't making a difference anyway, I don't think it'll ever make one. One phone call is all it will take and I'll be gone."

"No, don't leave," Zayn contradicts on pronto.

"I'm tired, Zayn. Of feeling like this and having to live with it. You're always so indecisive. Love me or not. Touch me or not. Now, leave me or not."

"I want you to stay," Zayn says firmly, but it sounds a tad ominous.

"Are you sure? Because...you like the idea of someone being there. But, when I'm the one there, you won't ever be happy. We'll keep fighting and going to back to first base, there's no end to it. I'll be hanging over your neck like an albatross," Liam explains gravely.

"I don't understand..."

Liam unwraps the duvet around himself, shuffling away- not trusting himself around his ex-boyfriend. "We wouldn't have even met, if circumstances were to be different. You'd not be in the band and I would be. So, instead of starting a million times over, why can't we just pretend we never knew each other? It's clearly the easy way. We can get used to not being around each and pretend we never were meant to be in our so-called arrangement."

"What-"

He moves further away, sliding his legs out till they dangle over the other edge, his back to Zayn. "I've revised this in my head twenty times too many. I've...I've wanted to scream at you for every time I felt useless. For every time you made me feel like I wasn't good enough. I get you weren't happy being in the band, and now you aren't. You didn't just break a contract, you broke it off with your three brothers and boyfriends. You broke the fans in halves. You're not in the band any more, but I am. And, I've only racked my brain a thousand times why I wasn't enough for you, to stay a little longer."

"I didn't choose this," Zayn admits slowly.

"But, you did."

He must have ignored Liam, because he continues. "I overheard your conversation with Jade after I left, through the door." He takes in a shaky exhale before Liam can protest. "I don't want this to be over, Liam. You probably do, but I don't. I want you to keep fighting with me as long as I fight for you." His voice gets nearer before a weight presses down the mattress beside Liam- the side of his face burning with a desperate glare. "I want you here with me. I want to have another chance with you, because no matter how many times I mess up, I'll still want you. I know I've tired you out, but I don't think I can stop. I'll make mistakes, I'll try again. If you leave, I want you to with a smile on your face and a taken status again."

Liam doesn't say anything.

"Liam, I miss you so much it's become a part of my breath."

When Liam decides to look up, he's ready with the words of defiance on his lips. But, they're taken straight out of his mouth when Zayn leans in and takes what he wants. Liam doesn't feel like the weight on him decreases any little; if anything, it only increases. It's supposed to feel like oxygen seasoned with relief, only it doesn't. He's quick to come to his senses though. He pushes hard at Zayn's face and morphs his melting face into that one of incredulity. "What do you think you're doing?"

"But, I- I thought you." Zayn gives him a long look of melancholy. "I've said what I had to. And I've never admitted to so much before. I'll let you think about it. I'll be behind that door waiting as long as you want me to."

And, like that he's gone. It's true; Liam has missed Zayn, not like how he missed someone by his side, but more like missing Zayn, himself. He still loves him, though he won't tell him that. He can leave from here, with having the hidden title of Zayn's boyfriend again and be happy with it. It would be like tasting struggle and each other's importance again. But the voice in his head says that he can do it.

On the other hand, distance would be too much. Meeting up secretively would be a pain. Having to make excuses and lying and drama would be another thing. Trying to make it stand would be the most difficult thing, when currently the towers were already crumbling. There were advantages and disadvantages. Good things and bad things about it. But he had to choose between going back or moving on.

Liam stands up, fists clenched and a look of determination shining in his eyes. He's ready to go out that door and say it all.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
